On Holiday
by THElaughingUNIVERSE
Summary: There are darker and stranger things than death in the universe. And one of them has decided to give Sirius Black a hand. Harry Potter Doctor Who crossover


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter characters or Doctor Who and its concepts.

**On Holiday**

"Who was it said the living are just the dead on holiday?"

-The Doctor in 'Destiny of the Daleks'

Prisoner number 00215, Sirius Black, died two years after his incarceration of his own apparent sheer power of will _not_ to live. His death didn't even make the papers. But it did reach the ears of a stranger who just happened to be strolling through the Ministry of Magic on some very specific business. The Stranger stopped and bit his lip, and considered the name of the dead man. Six minutes later he was gone and no one would remember his name or his face except for one very eccentric janitor who was famous for making up crazy stories anyway.

XXX

His fingernail was so black with dirt he could barely make it out in the darkness. The grooves of the stones were rough and cold beneath his half numb fingers. Strands of his hair fell into his face and stuck to his beard, flickering and jerking in front of his nose as he breathed in…and out.

Every breath was a little bit harder than the last. Every exhale took just a little more effort to reverse. It took too much energy, living, and he was waiting for the day when his body could just accept what his mind already knew. It was over. James was dead. Lily was dead. Peter was dead. And he was as good as dead. Nearly everyone he cared about was gone or cursed his name as that of a traitor.

His godson, the thick burning sensation of tears welled up in dry tear ducts, would be raised to hate his name. The name of Sirius Black would be covered with more and more grime as the years went by. It would be tarnished and beaten until it was as disgusting and dirty as the fingernails of the man who wore it.

Once upon a time the name and the man had been two different people. Both of them stood in front of the Wizengamot and both lost the right to freedom. One would live on to sting the ears of young children in history classes. The other would die, and stop, and no longer care what became of his name.

He rolled off of his stomach and leaned his knotted back against the wall. He twisted his fingers around themselves and shook his head slowly. Greasy tendrils brushed against his forehead. Tremors shook through his hands, quaking in his prominent knuckles. The mind of the man was mostly covered up. Dusty dank cobwebs stretched over the white parts of his thoughts, blacking them out. Icy fingers reached into his memories and poked around, constantly, scratching at the oldest scabs until they bled.

The man picked at his fingertips.

He didn't notice the new presence until his cell door clanged and swung open. Tired eyes shifted up, darting glances through the matt of hair in his face. His mouth twitched with the want of the remembrance of speech.

The stranger swaggered inside with his hands in the pocket of his brown jacket. He was no prison guard. No dementor. No diplomat. Brown spiky hair stuck up all over the top of his head in a very good impression of a disgruntled hedgehog. Sharp cheekbones, sharper eyes. They were deeper than most, like an endless well with layers of oil and water and perfume. The mouth smiled, the face smiled, but part of the eyes retreated back and let the perfume smile instead of wholly agreeing with it.

"Hullo!" he said in the kind of voice that the prisoner had forgotten existed. "I'm The Doctor." three steps carried him across the dirty straw on the floor to the corner with the dirty, betrayed, man. He extended a clean hand and didn't flinch with the disgustingly dingy one grasped it. "Thought I'd step in before it was too late." he paused. "Before I go mucking things up, you are Sirius Black right?"

Sirius. Black. The name and the man started to slide back into one being. Sirius nodded.

The Doctor smiled again, showing his white teeth. "I thought so, you can see the family resemblance."

Sirius didn't ask what that meant but he followed the man out of his cell. Questions were slowly starting to form in his head. A few of them might have been mild objections, but the were so icy he couldn't grasp them and they just kept sliding right away. They walked down the empty corridor, took a turn, and ended up in a bathroom. A strange looking box that filled up the corner from floor to ceiling stood next to the sinks. The Doctor opened the door on it and pushed Sirius gently inside.

He blinked and reached up to push his unwashed hair from his face. Light, and space. They were in a big open room that looked like it had been grown from some foreign jungle. Twisted pillars wound up from the floor to the ceiling and curved around a dais in the center. Lights flashed and the whole thing was entirely too outlandish to be taken in at one glance. Or one hard look. Or one careful study. Or one lifetime for that matter. But the very _air_ had the flavor of freedom.

Sirius tasted the tears before he felt them. Behind him The Doctor was standing silently, hands in the pockets of his coat. He was smiling without smiling again. Sirius wanted to know who this man was. This alien like stranger who could waltz through the hallways of Azkaban like they were the corridors of an office building. But he'd already been given what he was going to get.

The Doctor. There was a sort of scent about the man that forbid too many questions. He tipped the personal inquiries into the back of his mind and asked a safer one.

"Why me?"

"Why you? Why anyone! Why _me_ for that matter!"

No. "Who sent you?"

"No one _sent_ me. I came out of the good and gracious kindness of my heart!"

Sirius nodded. He suddenly felt like a small child who'd forgotten about his manners. "Thank you. But, _how_ did you know to come get me?"

The Doctor paused. The almost manic glee fled from his face and where the bouncing child had been stood now a serious man. "Your brother."

Sirius's mouth fell open. "Regulus? But he's dead! He died…"

"Years ago. Yes I know. And he died for a noble cause." The Doctor gave Sirius a look that dared him to argue; dared him to contradict. Sirius said nothing. There was some part of his old self that felt Regulus had been a traitor. It writhed at the very thought of his brother because there was the pain of his death, and then there was the pain of his betrayal.

Sirius had never worked out which hurt him worse.

This stranger, The Doctor, seemed to know more about both than he did. Sirius could accept that. Fifteen minutes ago he was ready to accept his own death. Accepting ignorance was not so hard.

"And he told you to come find me?"

"Water." said The Doctor.

"What?"

"You can't make a proper hot bath without the proper hot water. I think that's in order first. Then some new clothes perhaps, this way, _oh_ and tea, and _then_ I will tell you your brother's story." The Doctor led the way out of the main room. Sirius was not surprised to see that the box was bigger on the inside. Many wizarding houses were built the same way. But no magic clung to the walls. It was clean.

"What sort of magic did you use on this box?"

"Science. And it's a TARDIS not a box. Which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space, it's a time machine…well a space ship…well a space ship that can travel through time."

"What's science?"

The Doctor grinned his white teeth and looked over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in glee. "Ask a muggle sometime."

XXX

The Doctor sat himself on the floor against his circular machine and looked at Sirius with ageless eyes.

"He was bleeding when I found him. Not the frightening sort of gush but the slow leaking kind that makes it hard to tell just how much blood is being lost. He was pale and shivering and soaked through with dew.

"Somewhere in the east the sun was thinking about rising and it looked like it was going to be a gorgeous sunrise. Sharp and red. But your brother wasn't in any condition to notice. He was dying maybe. And maybe he wasn't. You humans survive the wildest things sometimes. He looked up at me, his eyes were a lot like yours, the same color, but sadder.

"I knew what he was. I knew what he'd done, but there was something about his face…regret. That was it, he was feeling regret.

"If there's one thing I can empathize with it's regret. So I knelt down and I told him there was a way to redeem himself. I told him I would help him, if he was willing."

The Doctor paused and Sirius couldn't wait.

"What did he say?"

"He started to cry. I took him with me. I let him heal. We traveled. I showed him the universe and the galaxies, a few of the more spectacular stars…he loved it, loved all of it. He was a frightened boy when our travels began and a kind man when they ended. A year he was with me, by my standards. By the actual timeline of history it was countless millennia but that's…" he waved his hand "that's not important.

"I already knew your history of course. The 'Wizarding Worlds' I mean. I know about Voldemort and his second rise to power and the chaos he caused. I've seen it all already. Regulus didn't ask me how it ended. But he came to me one day and told me he wanted to help.

"He even knew how. And he did help…in the end he did."

"How?" Sirius asked when he realized The Doctor was planning on ending his story there. "What did he do?"

"That is something I will tell you some other time. Right now I have another point. You can help too. Regulus mentioned you before he left. He said you were always the stronger one. He called you 'altruistic'. Do you believe in altruism?"

"No."

"Me either. But Regulus did, and he believed it was in you. He told me you were a good person, willing to die for your friends if it came to it. I heard your name just recently and remembered what Regulus said. Do you know where I heard your name? Or more importantly, when and why?"

Sirius shook his head.

"I heard your name tomorrow. Two aurors were discussing your sudden death."

"My death?"

The Doctor nodded. "You were going to die tonight."

Sirius had been wondering how close he'd come. _Too close._

"And you decided to save me. To give me a chance to help."

"Yes. I'm going to do for you what I did for Regulus. But I'm in a bit of a rush. There are techniques and meditations I can teach you that will help you survive Azkaban until the time comes for you to break out.

"First you should know this. Peter Pettigrew is alive."

XXX

Prisoner number 00215 settled back in his grime and his dirt and grinned in a way that showed his teeth. A nameless guard walked by and quickened his step, unnerved. There was no way for the man to tell that Sirius was three weeks older than he had been an hour ago. And he wouldn't witness prisoner 00215's death this time around because there would be no death.

Sirius wondered if maybe the time wouldn't go faster if he could get his hands on a copy of the daily prophet. Rage burned low and quiet and safe deep in his chest. He leaned back to wait out the next ten years of his life.

XXX

It was Christmas. It was bloody fucking Christmas and Sirius could feel it starting to catch up with him. The warnings The Doctor had told him about. He'd been free for two years and already his second death was approaching. The conversation he'd had twelve years ago kept echoing in his head.

"We can change things. But you can't stay there forever. In the original timeline you died and there is a point to which time cannot be stretched. Actually if you were someone else you could probably live out the rest of your life happily with no repercussions. But for some reason your death is imperative to history. I can extend your stay, nothing more."

_"You make it sound like I'm going on holiday. Okay, how do I get back?" _

_"I'll put something in your path. Something subtle that won't raise questions or suspicions. You'll feel it coming months before you find it. I doubt you'll know what it is until you're already through." _

_"Am I allowed to tell anyone?" _

_"…you can tell the werewolf." _

_"Remus? That's, well that's good. But not Harry?" _

_"No. Especially not Harry. And not anyone else." _

_"So why Remus?" _

_"Well he's a bloody werewolf and his life has been hard enough as it is. I think a little consolation that his best friend isn't actually _dead_ dead couldn't go astray." _

And there was Remus, leaning forward with his elbows on the table while he explained something to Harry. The frayed state of his robes didn't take away from the glow. Remus had always glowed, in the way that kind honest people couldn't seem to be dampened. _Maybe I do believe in altruism. If I do, there it is. _Sirius bit his lip and hastened to smile when his godson flashed green in his direction. _There too._

He waited until everyone was asleep before taking Remus aside to speak. He pulled his friend into the empty darkened room where his family tree was etched into the walls. The lights stayed off.

"Sirius, is something that matter?"

Sirius found his friends shoulder in the darkness and squeezed it. "Remus I have to tell you something."

Remus's hand came up to his arm and he wondered who was comforting who.

XXX

Sirius stood on the other side of the veil, seeing the ghostly images of his godson and Remus flickering from the other side.

"That wasn't so bad." he said out loud to the darkness.

"It will get worse." answered the darkness back. The Doctor was there, walking out of the abyss, or out of the next room. He clapped his hands and the darkness fled. The stone arch still whispered and curled.

"What is it?" Sirius asked.

"A worm hole…er…a portal. I fixed it with a direct link to the TARDIS temporarily. Until you came through a mean."

"What will you do with it now?"

"It will shut itself down."

And sure enough the whispering started to fade and the curtain stopped blowing. It was a plain old piece of curved rocked that Sirius started at.

"And I'll never see them again."

"No."

"Where do I go?"

The Doctor shrugged. "You can stick around if you like. Stay as long as you think you can. Then there are other places you might make a living."

Sirius felt his head whirl and come settling on a reluctant point. "You mean settle down." The Doctor nodded. "I'm…not sure I'm ready to do that yet."

The Doctor smiled then and for the first time it reached his infinite eyes. "I can't say I'm going to mind the company." Maybe it was designed to be some kind of lighthearted statement but the part of Sirius that had accepted death twice heard it like a heavy ringing bell. _No wonder he was able to just waltz through Azkaban._

Sirius had only understood the loneliness of a single man. The Doctor understood the loneliness of the macrocosm. He knew the solitude of the universe.

He pulled out a locket now, fishing it from around his neck, and held it out to Sirius. It fell heavy into the middle of his palm, dark and silver. His fingers closed over it and he saw that somehow, probably in the midst of the fight, his nails had become dirty again. They were crusted with blood and dirt and sweat and made a stinging contrast to the metal.

"An old friend gave me that." The Doctor was saying. "Along with specific instructions on what to do with it."

Sirius cleared his throat which was full of some kind of revelation he hadn't expected to have.

_Regulus._ Was dead. Had died to get this. And now Sirius knew what hurt him worse.

"What do we do with it?"

The Doctor had an arsenal of various smiles that all looked the alike and never meant the same thing twice. Sympathy was in it now.

"Have you ever heard of the old man in the sea?"

"No."

"That's okay. It's more like the barmy evil dark lord who set up a secret base by the sea anyway."

Sirius swallowed.

"And then what?"

"And then we go on a _real _Holiday. There are a few nebulas close by that are worth the few extra hundred thousand light years."


End file.
